


i hold your hand

by asterlisk



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Childhood Friends, College, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Lots of Cuddling, M/M, One Shot, Queerplatonic Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou, Short One Shot, Slice of Life, Soulmates, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, but you can interpret as you want!, happy married couple vibes, kuroo enjoys teasing kenma, love is still love, oh yeah, where what your soulmate writes appears on you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 10:54:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25848397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asterlisk/pseuds/asterlisk
Summary: A lazy Saturday afternoon in which Kuroo recharges, Kenma reminisces, and laundry is folded.* soulmates au* slight tw for reference to a panic attack
Relationships: Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou
Comments: 5
Kudos: 75





	i hold your hand

**Author's Note:**

> title: tokyo flash by vaundy
> 
> thank you for reading! i hope you enjoy this one shot!

Midday sunlight peeked in shyly through half-opened blinds, splashing golden honey across their linen sheets as Kenma opened his eyes. Rubbing bleary traces of sleep away from his sight and slowly sitting up, he cast a glance at the arms that were gently wrapped around his waist. Kuroo’s disheveled hair, which was always at its worst when he was still in bed, floated up and down almost imperceptibly with his slow breaths. Kenma held Kuroo’s cheek in his hand, gently rubbing his thumb over the dark lines of exhaustion etched right below his eye. 

He pulled away quickly, half expecting the man’s eyes to open and for him to don a sly, sleepy smile at that moment. But Kuroo didn’t do either of those things, and Kenma wasn’t surprised. Kuroo had nearly pulled what would be his third all-nighter in the last week making last-minute edits on an essay for university; he only slumped into bed when the first whispers of morning were uttered in the dark sky. The man was tired.

Kenma delicately lifted Kuroo’s arms and subsequently himself out of bed before grabbing a pen on his nightstand. He uncapped the marker — it was drying out, he would have to replace it soon — and scrawled on his palm,  _ wake up, sleepyhead.  _ Satisfied, Kenma replaced the cap and tiptoed towards the bathroom, leaving Kuroo to rest for as long as he liked. 

Saturday brunches were simple enough that Kenma could prepare them by himself. Fried eggs because Kenma didn’t feel like doing much more than watching his food while it cooked, toast that was a little too brown because Kuroo liked it that way, and mackerel pike because Kuroo’s taste was indecipherable. Kenma began preparing a cup of instant coffee, a foul oily substance that Kuroo for some reason enjoyed very much with his fish. Kenma couldn’t drink coffee; even a little bit would make him feel too jittery and if that happened Kuroo would find far too much enjoyment in babying him until all the caffeine exited his system. He instead poured a glass of apple juice and savored the refreshing icy sweetness.

Kenma peeked at his hand, wondering if his initial message had been met with a reply. Sure enough, a short word of chicken scratch had shown up beneath his own already-messy handwriting:  _ no _ . He sighed. Kenma clicked off the stove where two cooked eggs had been waiting expectantly in their pan before setting out two plates on a small dining table and separating the pair. The toast was ready to pop out the toaster at any second, but Kenma’s priority was different — and far needier.

He made his way back to the bedroom, where Kuroo was yawning and stretching out lazily across the bed. When Kuroo noticed Kenma standing in the doorway, his yawn changed into a smile; Kenma watched Kuroo’s expression reveal his playful desire to tease competing with lead weights of lethargy that were shackled to his bones. He crawled back under the covers and into Kuroo’s arms without a word, noting that Kuroo wasn’t even making his usual comments about Kenma being his “portable battery” or something else along those lines. All he felt was Kuroo burying his face into Kenma’s fine hair and breathing quietly, as if he was on the verge of drifting off into sleep again. Their chests rose and fell in an unhurried tempo until Kenma murmured into Kuroo’s chest, “The food is getting cold.”

Kuroo let out a particularly long exhale before managing to drag himself out of bed, holding onto Kenma’s hand in order to coax him to follow. “Thanks,” he replied with that same spent smile as before. “Let’s go eat.”

Saturday brunches were simple enough that Kenma didn’t have to worry about how far he was in his new game, or what assignment he had yet to complete, or what his classmates were arguing about in their poorly-named group chat. He instead traced the words inked on the inside of his right hand before biting into his too-crispy toast and griping with Kuroo about the dry texture; he instead worried more about how Kuroo licked all the charred bits of crust off his fingers and retorted, “Then why do we make the exact same thing every single Saturday?”

The pair cleaned their plates and emptied their respective drinks in a warm, comfortable calm. Kuroo stacked the dishes and left them to soak in the sink before turning to Kenma. 

“Well, what’s the plan for today?” he asked, although the inquiry came across more as a statement, as if he expected Kenma was about to lay out a detailed and exciting itinerary that would make a heart-racing Saturday afternoon.

Oh, it would be thrilling indeed. “Hanging and folding laundry.”

Kuroo cocked his head in confusion. “Don’t we have a lot more to do? Like vacuuming and dusting? Don’t forget cleaning the refrigerator.” At this point, he was silently adding to his mental to-do list on his fingers. 

Of course they had plenty of things they should be doing, but they could all wait for another time. A time when Kuroo’s broad shoulders weren’t slumped over in fatigue and when closing his eyes didn’t threaten to deliver him into sleep right where he stood. “Of course not,” Kenma answered without hesitation or a second glance at Kuroo. 

He knew Kuroo would catch on, and surely enough, the man grinned and hummed, “Whatever you say.” Kenma silently thanked whatever higher power that existed for sparing him from Kuroo’s  _ You must love me so much, Kenma! _ and  _ I didn’t know you cared so much about my health that you’d spare me from… from vacuuming! _ , both of which would have been accompanied by some very unwelcome crocodile tears.

Saturday brunches were simple enough that they inevitably led to even simpler Saturday afternoons, consisting of nothing but lounging about doing nothing or finishing a couple of chores before lounging about some more. The one bedroom, one kitchen apartment was suddenly its own pocket of life away from reality, where everything extraneous fell away except for Kenma, Kuroo, and their shared space. It was never too cramped when they were so used to each other’s presence in any room, at any time. Nothing was boring when secrets could be exchanged without words, through eyes and body language alone. Discomfort had no place in this cozy, covert nook; anxiety was chased away as quickly as it came. Life was lived as if Saturdays would never end.

Kenma padded into the laundry room, where a load of laundry greeted him and politely requested to be dried in the sun. He handled each article of clothing with care as one by one, they filled up his battered white hamper to the brim. By then, Kuroo had already taken an earlier batch of dried clothes off their lines and set them aside in a separate basket, to be folded later. Kenma teetered very precariously with the heavy basket that seemed bigger than he was until Kuroo lifted the other side of the crate from the bottom, taking off a significant portion of the load. The balcony door was already open, and Kenma squinted against the glare of the sun in a cloudless sky. A gale of wind whistled past, cloaking itself in a dress of gray curtains and exchanging hellos with the potted plants in the corner of the living room. Outside, the laundry lines danced and bobbed for a moment before settling down again.

Kenma began with the largest, heaviest sheet of the bunch, reaching as far as he could on his tippy-toes for the blue clothespin that was just out of reach. Kuroo chuckled under his breath, to Kenma’s vexation, before relenting and helping him pin up the corner of the cloth. Another gentler breath of sun-warmed summer air brushed past their cheeks and hugged the sheets, which Kenma thought to himself looked very much like billowing clouds or perhaps sails on a large galleon. 

Kuroo turned on the box fan resting in the corner of the balcony; Kenma exhaled in relief as it sputtered reluctantly to life, giving him some respite from the heat. He steered clear of the edge of the ledge, knowing the metal bars would be scalding to the touch under the watchful eye of the sun and that he would probably not enjoy looking down from such a tall height all that much. Kuroo briefly stepped back inside the apartment before returning a moment later with two cans of soda. He pressed the frosty metal, doused in frigid condensation, against Kenma’s cheek before the man had time to react. “Here.”

Kenma nodded in gratitude, although he was still rubbing his cheek, which would no doubt be temporarily marked pink thanks to the sudden cold. The lid fizzed open with a satisfying hiss of bubbles and the scent of citrus floating in the air. Kenma sipped at his second sweet drink of the day, feeling invigorated with the boost of tangy sugar while he sat in front of the box fan, which was whirring angrily at maximum power. He glanced at Kuroo, who was managing to stay anchored to consciousness through willpower, and then he observed the laundry fluttering about in the breeze. Fabrics of all colors waltzed around him. Kenma reached his arms into the air, tempted to feel their butterfly kisses at his fingertips. One of the pillowcases swooped down in his periphery and smacked him in the face, invoking a split second of panic while his breathing was smothered. He swiped at the sheet until it reluctantly followed the wind in a different direction.

Despite glaring at Kuroo for laughing, Kenma couldn’t help but think of him back when they were in middle school.

_ You wore your tie too loose, and your collar was unbuttoned. It was the beginning of spring. My teacher finally gave my class the talk about soulmates and writing and you’re of age and don’t start looking now, they could be halfway around the world or asleep right now. You complained that you tried finding your soulmate, but they never responded when you wrote on your palm. I wondered what would happen if I tried. Would I get an answer? _

_ I said hi, and so did you. We didn’t say our names because you were always about making it suspenseful, a real “edge-of-your-seat” experience. We somehow figured out that we went to the same school. You told me to meet you at a specific tree behind the school when class was over. I was scared. I was scared, but I went. I wondered how my soulmate might compare to you.  _

_ I saw you there. You showed off your palm like you were asking for a high-five, even though I was too shy to show you mine. Your too-loose tie and dress-code-violation collar looked really cool in the wind, and sakura petals got stuck in your bedhead. You didn’t hug me because I wasn’t comfortable with sudden touches then, but you held my hand because I reached out. I especially liked your smile that day. You looked relieved, and so was I. I was happy. Really happy.  _

_ I still am so happy. _

Kenma’s empty can clinked against the concrete floor, at which point he decided looking over their innocuous residential complex had served its purpose, and that he was more than ready to escape the heat. He held out his hand to Kuroo, who silently obliged and dusted his shorts off after standing up. Kuroo ducked under the doorframe, rough fingers still laced with Kenma’s, as they approached the couch to begin folding the earlier basket of laundry.

Kuroo pulled a pillow off the couch and sat down; he was able to stretch his legs out, unlike on the tiny balcony. Kenma slowly nestled himself between Kuroo’s legs and reached for the graphic tee resting at the peak of the mountain of fabrics. Kuroo hugged his arms softly around Kenma’s thin waist and burrowed his face into the crook of Kenma’s neck, treating him with the same care as the petals protecting a rosebud. Kenma leaned into Kuroo’s reach, catching a smell of his shampoo. Lavender and eucalyptus. Kenma himself didn’t really care, but Kuroo insisted that he use coconut to maintain his soft hair texture and reduce damage from bleaching. He didn’t mind. Kuroo’s hair smelled nice no matter what Kenma used, so he didn’t mind. Kuroo always smelled like sleep, and the velveteen blanket of night, and something that made him feel warm and fuzzy inside. 

“You can sleep if you’re tired.”

“I know.”

“I mean it.”

“I know.”

But Kuroo wouldn’t go to sleep, and Kenma knew that, because Saturdays were a day to do everything together, including naps. For now, Kuroo would wait for Kenma to finish folding their clothes, and then Kenma would inevitably fall asleep just so Kuroo wouldn’t feel bad for getting some much-needed rest. When Kenma felt Kuroo’s favorite blanket pop up in the pile, he spread it across both of them and continued folding. As the blanket lightly floated down to cover their legs, Kenma was bathed in new scents, ones of the sun’s warmth and hints of morning dew and fresh apples and Kuroo and home. He brought his knees to his face for just a moment to catch more of everything familiar around him, slumbering in every corner of their apartment, protecting him just as well as Kuroo could.

The sun was well on its path from its apex in the washed-out blue sky while Kenma continued folding laundry. Kuroo was still not asleep, and Kenma could tell by how he was breathing. If Kenma really was Kuroo’s portable charger, he wondered what percentage Kuroo was at right now. He hoped it was a good one.

Kenma’s phone chirped from the other room in the bright ringtone that was unique only to one person while he busied himself over a very creased tank top. It was definitely Shoyo. They had made plans in a couple of weeks to travel to the beach together, with a few former Karasuno and Nekoma teammates in tow. Shoyo was no doubt bombarding Kenma’s messages with plenty of questions about sunscreen and pool floaties and beach volleyball and how to deal with Bakageyama and are you as excited as I am? Kenma couldn’t say he wasn’t excited, especially because he hadn’t seen Shoyo in such a long time, but he wasn’t exactly the most enthused either. He cringed internally at how hot the sand would be and what kinds of detritus would be maliciously lurking in the waters. Japan wasn’t exactly a tropical paradise.

But today was Saturday, and unfortunately, Saturday was not made for Shoyo. Saturday was made for him and Kuroo, when every other day of the week was filled with other things and other people. Shoyo could wait until Sunday. Kuroo could not. 

Kenma adjusted the blanket to cover their feet.

_ I was buried under three blankets. Nothing would make the shivering go away, even though I wasn’t all that cold. I just knew there was something wrong, something that crushed all the air out of my lungs and blurred my vision. I was terrified of a nameless nothing. I couldn’t be alone. I just wanted to stop shivering. I barely managed to write  _ help _ on my hand when you were already sliding the window up, and I felt your weight through the blankets. _

_ You didn’t ask me if I was alright because you knew I wasn’t. You weren’t wearing your normal smile or your brash attitude. You looked like how you were when we first met, when you used to be just as quiet as I was. Except you asked if you could hug me, and I nodded, and when you hugged me I felt safe. It took some time, but you didn’t let go, and eventually my body remembered how to breathe. I could speak again, but I still didn’t want you to let go. We stayed that way for a long time. I didn’t think it was possible to be as happy as when I found out we were soulmates. _

_ You make me feel safe when I am afraid. I hope I’m returning the favor.  _

Today, Kuroo was not the world’s Kuroo. He was Kenma’s Kuroo, and that meant he was quieter. False bravado rarely made an appearance, and if it did, Kenma's eyes pierced through it easily. Kuroo’s sharp edges blurred away until he and Kenma were two colors smudged together on the same canvas. He was lavender and eucalyptus, and he was the warmth that embraced Kenma’s back without needing to say any words to make it special. 

Kenma was done folding clothing. Several neat stacks of clothes presented themselves along the edge of the couch, and he organized them into the laundry basket. Kenma decided he would empty it later, when he found the willpower to move to the closet. Instead, he snuggled his head into a more comfortable position against Kuroo’s chest and reached for the game console sitting unassumingly on the coffee table. Perhaps he'd try to clear the floor boss today. Kuroo seemed to have recovered some of his vigor, because he untwisted his hands from Kenma’s waist and instead began playing with Kenma’s hair. Kenma instinctively sat forward while Kuroo’s legs curled inward to wrap up Kenma’s own. 

Kenma greatly enjoyed the feeling of Kuroo’s hands creating messy braids and haphazard designs with his hair. Kuroo’s callused fingertips knew Kenma’s hair very well, after years of playing with it and several accidental tugs and twists along the way. Kuroo said it relaxed him, gave his hands something to do without having to apply much thought. He claimed Kenma was cute and having his hair done would make him even cuter. Today, Kuroo didn’t seem to have the energy to hum one of his aggravating tunes, but Kenma was also fine sitting in snug, summery silence. There were plenty of sounds all around them — sounds that made speaking entirely unnecessary. Cicadas droned outside; the air conditioner was blasting at full power; their own breathing filled the apartment comfortably. Their apartment didn’t have an analog clock ticking away, because Kenma would get distracted or anxious from the sound, and who needed a reminder of the passing of time anyway? Kuroo and Kenma simply treated each moment together like an eternity that could be spent without uttering a word.

Kenma didn’t know of any particular reasons as to why Kuroo should be his soulmate. More often than not, people labeled him as a sneaky bastard or a pain in the ass. Kuroo was sadistic at times, and he loved to poke fun at Kenma for inane things. He overworked himself because he was dedicated to what he enjoyed, and he surrounded himself with rowdy friends — friends who could be too loud for Kenma, at times. Yes, Kuroo definitely had his flaws. But Kuroo was also comfortable to be around. He knew when to stop teasing, and he let Kenma take care of him when he was overworked to the bone, and he told off his friends when they were too loud for Kenma. Kuroo knew all of him, and he knew all of Kuroo, solely from having been around each other for what felt like their entire lives. Kuroo was a presence that could not be separated from Kenma. Everything was quiet, and Kenma knew peace.

He knew peace, save for the rumble in his stomach.

Kenma tenderly tapped behind him, feeling for Kuroo’s arm. “I’m going to get snacks.” He didn’t bother asking what Kuroo wanted, because it was always the same.

He rummaged around the pantry and the refrigerator; Kenma nabbed two ice cream sandwiches and the dried mango slices before finally tucking the half-eaten bag of potato chips under his arm. The tiny braids in his hair came undone with each cat-like step between the kitchen and his place in the living room.

When he returned, Kuroo reached expectantly for the mint chocolate flavor. “Hurry, before it melts!” he cooed playfully. Kenma was internally relieved at Kuroo’s apparent revival compared to how exhausted he was in the morning, but he still couldn’t help but sigh with exasperation as he handed the mint green-packaged bar to Kuroo. 

“You really shouldn’t be eating like this if you’re playing volleyball,” he commented as he resituated himself in Kuroo’s lap.

“Is this really coming from you, Slacker Supreme?” Kuroo responded nearly instantaneously, his voice muffled by a mouthful of buttery dough and mint ice cream.

“I only do it because you first roped me into it,” Kenma fired back. “It’s not like I care all that much about volleyball.” He maintained a practiced tone of indifference, even though he knew it wouldn’t work on Kuroo. 

“But you enjoyed it enough to join the college team with me. I didn’t force you to keep playing.” Kenma could hear the shit-eating grin in Kuroo’s voice right by his ear, and he felt he had no choice but to defend himself.

Rather, he had no choice but to defer to a noncommittal grunt. He wasn’t about to admit out loud that he actually cared a whole lot more about letting Kuroo and his teammates down than anything else. There wasn’t a pen around, so Kenma reached for Kuroo’s hand — the one that wasn’t busy demolishing an ice cream sandwich. Kenma used his fingers and traced out the words,  _ you know _ . Kuroo returned the gesture on Kenma’s hand too, slowly weaving together the simple response,  _ i do. _ He made sure to dot the period with a very grand flick of the wrist.

They lulled back into their drowsy quiet once more, not paying any mind to the sun’s gradual descent towards the horizon. Their only recognition of the passing of the day was Kenma watching his shadow grow, until it became an abstract color field splotched on the couch and the wall beside them. 

_ We were walking back from practice. I couldn’t look at anything but our shadows, yours much taller than mine. I was used to seeing them like that. I didn’t want that to change, but I thought that it might. I loved you, and I always have. I just don’t love you in the way that they show on TV. I know you’re my soulmate because I want you to be my soulmate. But I just don’t love you like how they say I should. I love you like how I know I can, and that’s all I have. _

_ I couldn’t even pull out my Game Boy because I thought I would drop it. You noticed something, because you stopped complaining about Lev and you started leading me by the hand to the swings near our houses. The swings where we first met. We swung until the sun went down and our shadows multiplied underneath all the street lamps around the park. You didn’t say anything, and you didn’t complain or ask. You just waited.  _

_ I couldn’t say it out loud. I pulled out a marker — the one I always use to write to you — and I told you the truth. I hid behind my hair until all I could see were my feet, dangling off the swing. Then I saw your feet in front of mine, and you patted my head. This wasn’t the first time you were relieved. It  _ was _ the first time that I hugged you myself. Your arms around me felt good and warm and safe. _

_ You make hugs and kisses and handholds alright. You know where I draw the line, and you plant flowers around it because you want to make me say it looks pretty. I love you how I know best, and you do the same. I am happy to see your smile, even though it makes you look sly. I am happy to do nothing and everything with you. I love you a lot. Love me too, for as long as you can. _

Kenma turned to face Kuroo. He seated himself on the carpet in between Kuroo’s legs before looking up at Kuroo himself. 

Kenma was met with a shotgun blast of salt and vinegar chip particulate. “I love you too!” Kuroo exclaimed, spraying his nuclear fallout in every direction, particularly onto Kenma.

“... Kuro, that has to be the most disgusting thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“You still love me.” A devilish, snide smile.

Kenma scowled because Kuroo was right.

“Aren’t you gonna ask me how I just read your mind?” Kuroo prodded, the delivery of the question involving significantly less chip-filled spittle this time.

Kenma’s face reordered itself into that of calm disinterest. He wiped his face clean of chips and saliva on Kuroo’s tank top before answering, “Of course not.”  _ Of course not, dummy. I do the exact same thing to you. _

Kuroo laughed before reaching out to catch Kenma in a hug. 

“You’re very… huggy today, aren’t you,” Kenma murmured. Naturally, he reached his arms around Kuroo too, finding comfort in feeling his back. 

“It’s because I’m not done recharging yet, Kenma.” Kuroo’s whisper was quieted by Kenma’s hair, but Kenma could feel the gentle sound resonate in his head. 

Kenma found a more comfortable position in Kuroo’s arms while fingering out letters on his back, right below the space in between his shoulder blades.  _ i love you _ . Even his shirt held onto whiffs of dozing lavender.

Kuroo laughed once more, a rumbly cotton purr of a laugh. “I knew it.” Kenma felt Kuroo’s lips brush the top of his head, more softly than the summer winds drifting by outside. His hands didn’t grip too hard. They knew Kenma would never leave, and so they had no reason to press. They were comfortable.

Kuroo effortlessly lifted the two of them onto the couch, where Kenma was able to sink into Kuroo entirely. He was surrounded by Kuroo, by safety. He was home. Dinner was an afterthought. Tomorrow and everything that entailed were forgotten altogether. All Kenma could think of was how easily he could fall asleep right now, in Kuroo’s arms. The sun was also closing its listless eye over the apartment building, but Saturday wasn’t quite over yet. Neither Kenma nor Kuroo was ready for it to be over. Kenma drifted away, into dream and memory as the two converged.

_ I missed you so much when you left for university. I didn’t want to call, so I wrote you little messages. Your professors might’ve thought you were cheating. How nice it was to get a  _ good morning _ and a  _ good night _ from you. My palms were always pink because I had to wash them so often. Your room was dark at night when I couldn’t fall asleep. You couldn’t crawl through the window when I needed you. I wanted to grow up faster, so I could catch up to you. _

_ When I finally caught up, every moment became special. Our walks to the convenience store. Cram nights before tests. Playing even the most boring games. Writing empty notes that don’t mean anything, because after all, I can see more of you than just ink on my hand. Watching our shadows grow long. Saturdays. I never want our Saturdays to end. They feel like forever, and they feel like they pass by far too quickly. I’m never tired of smelling sun-dried sheets and lavender and eucalyptus in your hair and mint chocolate chip ice cream. _

_ We’ll keep on growing up. Soon, you’ll graduate without me again, and I’ll have to catch up all over again. But I think… I think we’ll be fine. I think we’ll always have our laundry days, and you’ll always be there to turn on the box fan and press a can of soda against my cheek. I can always see your hand, right in front of me, waiting. _

_ I love you so much. _


End file.
